


the boy with the thorn in his side

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: again we wander, we love, we separate again [13]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Memory Wipe, Clark is Superman, Fortress of Solitude, Future Fic, Injured Lex, M/M, POV Second Person, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Superman is saving Lex Luthor.Superman is crying.Superman is kissing Lex on the mouth with blood on his hands.The camera's flash.





	the boy with the thorn in his side

**Author's Note:**

> the boy with the thorn in his side  
> behind the hatred there lies  
> a murderous desire for love
> 
> how can they see the love in our eyes  
> and still they don't believe us  
> and after all this time  
> they don't want to believe us
> 
> when you want to live  
> how do you start?  
> where do you go?
> 
> -The Smiths

 

  

 

Tomorrow, they'll print your photo in grainy black and white and speculate. Accuse.

You'll take scissors to the newspaper and cut a jagged line around the article and again to release a photograph. You'll ignore your own face in the mirror - staring back is an unrecognizable man with a stern jaw. The love and life drained from him one rescue at a time. That's not you.

Metropolis will demand answers and fill in the blanks where there are none. They'll label you a hero everlasting, Lex as the storybook villain and both as the enemy. A contradiction. You'll feel dirty. Skin scrubbed until it's pink and new again.

* * *

 

 

But it's not tomorrow yet. You still have to survive today. 

Your hands are coated in the slick texture of his blood. Red like roses. Silky as crushed petals on the pavement. The press crudely snap photographs, chronicling your pain. Your fear. 

Superman is _saving_ Lex Luthor, they say. 

Superman is crying.

Superman is kissing Lex on the mouth with blood on his hands.

Crimson fingerprints on a bare scalp, forehead, temples. 

Crowds shout in your direction but you cannot hear them. You take to the sky with your stained and broken damsel, his faint heartbeat in your ears. Running from the praise, the shock, the confused and demanding public. 

He rests in your fortress of ice, bleeding and bruised. Bullet extracted like a thorn. 

Cauterize the wound, apologize apologize apologize. 

He won't wake for another five days.

* * *

 

 

**TOMORROW.**

 

You address the waiting public and cringe when they've dug up connections.  

Clark Kent, reporter for The Daily Planet. Superman, Smallville. Old articles from The Torch. Adoption certificate. 

Confirm suspicions: 

"Yes, Lex and I share a past not limited to romantic notions. We were friends above all else. Superman is my job, ma'am. I speak for myself - _Clark Kent_ still cares for Lex Luthor. Yes, despite our run-in's. Love? With all due respect sir, would I have saved him if I _didn't_ love him?"

They mark all of you as a threat. Clark Kent, Superman - an alien who is too close and too far from calling himself a human. Lex Luthor - guilt by association. 

_Apologize, apologize, apologize._

They're piranhas out for blood. They don't care. 

The Romans crucified Jesus even as he begged for mercy. People are ruthless like that. You're no Jesus but you know betrayal when you see it. 

Later, you have a scalding shower in a hotel three towns over. Scrub away their lies. You take scissors to the local newspaper and cut a jagged line around the article that deplores Superman, Clark Kent andLex Luthor. 

They catch on Superman's photograph in the paper and rip it in two. It's cathartic in a way, severing ties.

* * *

 

 

**DAY FIVE**

 

His eyes open - the color of a rainy day after too much sunshine. Your Judas, your beautiful Judas. 

"Hey Lex," a whisper as he takes in his surroundings, "I'm home."  

His voice cracks when he opens his mouth and you want to burn Metropolis to the ground for speaking ill of him. For reducing him to a tarnished last name and past sins. You've loved him before you even knew him at all. Even when loving him wasn't easy. 

Hoarse and this side of desperate, Lex reaches out a hand. "Clark...Clark, are you staying?" 

Answer him by stripping off the suit until it's a mere puddle on the floor. Roll it into a ball with newspaper clippings on top, strike a match and  _burn it._ Move past the smoking bundle and take his hand, nuzzle his knuckles, kiss the soft inner flesh of his wrist. 

 _"We_ are. Me and you." 

"But..." 

"Remember when you told me to choose, Lex? You or them?"

"Clark, that was over five years ago. A lot has changed."

"...I chose you then. I'm choosing you now. Let me." 

A soft exhalation and a wobbly smile. "Okay."

When you kiss, it tastes of salt and forgiveness neither of you deserve.

When he thrusts in with one long slow glide, you think the public has it wrong.

Heroes are those standing in the shadows plucking off demons and fighting to not become one. He's been protecting you in a very Lexian way. Picking battles with Superman to throw off those who wished to see you dead. His tactic was to draw the focus onto himself and away from the others as he discreetly had them knocked off one by one. 

Proving the only universe he ever wanted contained a world worthy of such a sacred future. A fated world where Clark Kent is alive and the two of you become great men together. You can have that. You can build it here in the salt of his skin, the scar on his lip, the slender build of his frame under the heat of your palms. 

You can start over.  

"I love you," breathed against your lips. Spoken again in Kryptonian. 

You echo it back at him. Gather him in your arms and  _sob._  

This is a heartbeat and a home. 

* * *

 

 

Tomorrow, you won't care if they get it wrong. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have such a soft spot for protective Clark eventually having had enough and running away with Lex; believing he's never too far gone to save. I like to think that the goodness in Lex makes him want to protect Clark in his own way aka his weird ass - "Only *I* get to kill Superman" declarations in comics. We love you, Lex, even if you're a strange little buggo. 
> 
> Also, I'm omitting the Lex memory wipe storyline because I think it was a lame ending to Smallville. 
> 
> **This fic obviously takes place sometime after Clark becomes Superman and because Lex never has his mind wiped, he knows they're one in the same.**
> 
> title is from a Smith's song :)


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